Of Skyscrapers and Subways
by Mornen
Summary: The fellowship of the Ring have been thrust into modern times without any knowledge of how they got there. Dealing with the future would be hard enough, but they must also deal with the problem of the Ring and the growing fear that Sauron may not have been left behind.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Hi, this is a severely edited version of a story I first published on this site three years ago. That version has been removed and this one shall be going up in its place._

_Plot: The fellowship of the Ring have been thrust into modern times without any knowledge of how they got there. Dealing with the future would be hard enough, but they must also deal with the problem of the Ring and the growing fear that Sauron may not have been left behind._

_Genres: Fantasy, sci-fi, and a bunch of humour._

_Random notes: This story deals mainly with Tolkien's characters. There are only background original characters. There are no non-canon pairings (sort of)._

_Cover art by RandomCelt of The Wayfaring Strangers. Thanks!_

* * *

Chapter 1

Aragorn sat watching the rain. It poured from the sky, drenching the city and pattering against the glass window. The city lights quivered under it, fading in and out with each new drop. He drew in a deep breath of smoke, and let it out slowly. Swirling patterns filled the air.

'Must you smoke?' said Legolas. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, laptop open. He had a web page about seatbelts up.

'It helps me think,' Aragorn said.

Legolas frowned and typed 'dangers of smoking' into the google browser. 'It can also give you lung cancer,' he said. 'And mouth cancer and throat cancer and heart disease and strokes.'

'What is cancer?' Aragorn said.

Legolas typed 'what is cancer' into the browser. 'The disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body.'

'Okay.' Aragorn inhaled. He heard Legolas mutter 'abnormal cells' as he typed it into the browser. Then they sat in silence for a few minutes, Legolas googling and Aragorn thinking about their current situation.

They were so very high in the air, looking out onto a high city. In some ways it reminded him of _Lothlórien_: the way the lights shivered made him think of the lights shimmering in and out between the trees. He had fallen in love all over again in Lothlórien. He wondered if he would ever see it again.

He leaned back against his chair. It was a spindly green chair that he had picked up for $7.00 at a yard sale. It looked out of place in this white place with its white walls and white carpets and white plastic window frames, but so did he.

'It's very dangerous,' Legolas said.

'What?'

'Cancer.'

'Yes.' Aragorn opened the window. Rain fell down against the window frame. It smelt warm and dirty. The air was warm. It was the end of a hot day in July.

'Do you have work tomorrow?' Legolas said.

'Yes.' Aragorn wondered why Legolas insisted on keeping up a conversation. He wasn't used to speaking to people for great lengths of time. He wanted to think, and if he had to speak to someone, he would have liked it to be Gandalf. He was sure that Gandalf would have some idea of where they were or even how they had gotten there. And yet, the land was so foreign, so distant that it seemed to have sprung from a half-remembered nightmare. He wasn't certain that even Gandalf could understand it.

'7.6 million people die of cancer each year,' Legolas said.

'You wouldn't have to put up with my smoking if you had just agreed to room with Boromir,' Aragorn said. 'He doesn't smoke.'

Legolas shut his laptop. 'He hates me.'

'That is not my fault.'

'It isn't my fault either.'

'It's either him, or the smoke.'

Legolas picked up the laptop and marched it over to his dresser. He put it on the top of the dresser in the box it had come in and closed the box carefully. He smoothed the 'DO NOT TOUCH' sign he had taped to the box. He opened a drawer and pulled out his nightclothes.

'Any new ideas of how we might have gotten here?' Legolas asked. 'I've ruled out black holes, but a wormhole is still an option.' He paused. 'You don't have any idea what either of those are, do you?'

Aragorn shook his head.

'You should read more.' He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off over his head. 'They have to do with space. Obviously we are either in another world or another time, so something must have made us travel through space or time.' He pulled on his nightshirt. 'The question is what.'

'We could trapped in the imaginings of Sauron,' Aragorn said. 'He could have the Ring now. He could be torturing us.'

Legolas unlaced his trousers. 'No, if he had the Ring, we would know.'

The front door of the flat opened. Aragorn heard Boromir walk in and stamp his shoes dry on the welcome mat.

'Boromir, you're soaked!' It was Merry's voice, rising high and worried. The hobbits slept in the kitchen/living room on a white and grey striped pullout sofa, which had come with the place. They liked to stay up late whispering to each other and raiding the refrigerator.

'I'm all right; it's a warm rain,' Boromir said to Merry. 'I've seen a lot worse.'

'Still, you'd better change into something dry,' said Merry, 'before you catch a cold or something a lot worse!'

'Go to sleep.'

Aragorn heard Boromir cross the hobbits' room. He stopped outside of Aragorn's room and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' said Legolas, folding up his day clothes and placing them on top of the dresser by the box.

Boromir stepped in, his blue jeans and grey-blue button-up shirt soaked through. He brushed at his wet face. 'That was a good walk.'

'Merry is right,' Aragorn said. 'You should get out of those.'

Boromir nodded. 'I will. But first I have to tell you what happened to me this evening. It was quite extraordinary.'

'Everything is extraordinary here,' Legolas said. 'I'm sure it was nothing.'

'You just contradicted yourself,' Boromir said.

'No, I didn't.' Legolas fell backwards onto the bed dramatically and lay there counting the strands of his hair.

'Yes, you did,' Boromir said.

'No.'

'Yes,' said Boromir. 'You did. You said everything here was extraordinary, which means that if something happened here it could not have been nothing.'

Legolas wrinkled his nose. 'Comparatively it would have been nothing.'

Aragorn sighed, wondering why Legolas had decided that not only would he hate Gimli he would also antagonize Boromir at every opportunity. Legolas had told him it was because he had heard Boromir agreeing with Gimli that elves were annoying. But even if that were true, which very well could have been, the fighting was driving him mad. It didn't help that relationship problems were not one of his strong points.

'Please, go on with your tale,' Aragorn told Boromir.

'Well,' said Boromir, 'I was walking along, minding my own business—'

'Getting soaked in a dirty city for fun,' Legolas added.

'You like rain,' Boromir said.

'Thirty-five, thirty-six.' Legolas was counting strands of hair again.

'At any rate,' said Boromir, 'I came across a bar,'

'And, being a mortal man, you walked in.'

Boromir glared at Legolas. 'Which had a help-wanted sign in the window. I went in to inquire about the position, and, well, I don't know exactly how, but I was hired.'

'As what?' asked Aragorn.

'A bartender.'

'With no previous experience?'

'None here at least. I've got a bit of experience back at home, but that was just fun.' He smiled. 'I don't know why he chose me, but it pays three times better than my old job.'

'They probably chose you because you're so handsome,' said Legolas with a shrug.

'Thanks, beautiful.'

Legolas shrugged again.

'Congratulations,' said Aragorn.

'Thank-you. I've got to go change.' Boromir walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

'That's a lucky break, if ever I saw one,' said Aragorn.

* * *

When Aragorn awoke the next morning, Legolas was already up, typing away on his laptop. Aragorn rolled over and read the clock. 5:43. He got up and stretched.

'Morning,' said Legolas, without looking up.

'Good morning.'

Aragorn walked to the bathroom, checking on the hobbits as he passed by. They were still asleep, curled up together on the pullout sofa. Frodo seemed fine. He had his head on Merry's shoulder. Aragorn could make out the outline of the ring underneath his nightshirt. The chain glinted against his neck.

The door to Boromir and Gimli's room was cracked open. Gimli was still sleeping, but Boromir was awake, punching the palm of one hand with his fist.

'Boromir,' he whispered, so as to not wake Gimli. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' said Boromir. 'Just suffering from a severe bout of insomnia. Do you know the time?'

'Almost six.'

'I'm getting up.'

'You'd better wake Gimli up too.'

'Have you ever woken a dwarf before?' Boromir groaned. 'You're lucky, you know, getting the elf and all. He snores.' Boromir nodded at Gimli.

Aragorn chuckled and headed to the shower. Showers were wonderful things. He stepped in and let the hot water pour over him. He slathered his hair with shampoo, and rinsed it out wildly. He rubbed the soap against his skin; little bubbles foamed and then glided away with the streaming water. It was convenient. Showers were convenient. The world might be loud and dirty, but it had luxuries like showers and washing machines and food from a box.

He walked back into the kitchen/living room, where the hobbits were still sleeping through Boromir's attempts at making breakfast.

'What are you doing to those eggs?' asked Aragorn, leaning over to look down at a mess of glistening yellow and brown sizzling on the bottom of the bright red frying pan.

'I am trying to scramble them,' said Boromir. 'They, however, do not have the faintest idea as to what that means.'

'Well, you had better give them a stir of they're going to burn,' Aragorn said.

Boromir frowned. 'Too late for that.'

'Good morning,' Frodo said, sitting up. He yawned widely. 'Oh, it can't be time to wake up yet.' He yawned again.

'You can sleep if you want to,' Aragorn said.

Frodo yawned. 'No, I'm awake now.' He crawled off the sofa and hobbled to the bathroom.

'I think Legolas is in there,' said Boromir.

Frodo knocked on the door.

'I'll be right out!'

Frodo leaned against the wall and yawned again. 'Did you sleep well?' he asked.

'No,' said Boromir. 'Gimli kept me awake. He was kicking.'

'And snoring?' said Aragorn.

'Yeah.'

'Sorry,' Frodo said. 'Pippin kicks too. But I slept pretty well.' He yawned. 'I don't think I'm advertising that well.'

'Really, you can sleep,' said Aragorn, getting out a box of Cheerios from the cupboard.

'I'd much rather stay awake and talk to you though,' Frodo said through a yawn.

'Did something happen?' Aragorn asked quickly.

'No,' said Frodo. 'I'd just like to talk.' He knocked on the door again. 'You said you'd be right out!'

'There's a knot in my hair,' came Legolas's reply.

'You don't need the entire bathroom to get a knot out.'

'You can come in.'

Frodo disappeared into the bathroom.

'He's so small,' Boromir said. 'So very small.'

'Yes,' said Aragorn. He poured a bowl of Cheerios and added milk. Boromir was putting his burnt scrambled eggs onto a plate. He put a slice of lightly toasted bread next to the eggs and buttered it. 'I can make toast,' he said.

'Oh good, I'll have some,' Pippin muttered in his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Frodo shut the bathroom door behind him. Legolas was standing by the sink working a knot out from the underside of his hair.

'Boromir burning breakfast?' Legolas asked.

'Yeah.' Frodo turned the bath water on.

Legolas sniffed.

Frodo stood watching the bath fill. The water was clear, but it had a blue-green tint around the edges.

'Does it get tangled a lot?' said Frodo. He waved his hand around his head to show that he was talking about Legolas's hair.

'My hair?' Legolas frowned, tilting his head from side to side. 'Mmm, sometimes. Not a lot, a lot. I have friends with long hair who get tangles nearly every day.'

'There's no special elf magic to keep that from happening?' asked Frodo. 'And I think you hair is very long. Is it not long for an elf's? How long does it have to be before you consider it long?'

'Um.' Legolas paused in the de-tangling. 'In order asked the answers to your questions are: No, unfortunately not. I'd say my hair length is about average, and long would be about here,' he touched his side just above his waist, 'or longer. Some elves wear their hair down to their feet.'

He twisted the knot in between two fingers and then pulled a couple strands up. The knot fell loose in messy waves. Legolas began to straighten them.

'That's interesting,' said Frodo. 'Do you use shampoo? Or does your hair never get oily? Does it not get oily but get dirty? Do you use soap? How often do elves bathe? Do you ever not smell like grass and leaves and flowers?'

'You're inquisitive this morning,' Legolas said. He fluffed his hair out. 'Do you actually find this topic interesting or are you just making conversation until I leave?'

'Sorry,' said Frodo. 'I just get talkative when I'm tired.'

'You should probably go back to sleep,' said Legolas. 'Getting enough sleep each night is critical for proper physical and mental well-being; it also slows the aging process.'

Frodo sighed and looked down at the slowly filling bath. Legolas was always offering advice on the best way to live that he learned in his endless research. 'I'm sure I have more than enough help slowing the aging process,' he whispered.

'Is something wrong?'

'Yes, yes there is. But don't tell Aragorn. He just gets anxious, and there's nothing he can do about it, so he blames himself.'

'What is it?' Legolas asked.

'Nightmares,' said Frodo. 'It's just nightmares.' He felt the running water and turned the knob further to the left for hot.

'What kind of nightmares?' Legolas asked.

Frodo shook his head. 'It really isn't important,' he said. 'It's just this new place. Everything's so strange here.'

He looked at Legolas, who was watching him closely. His face was clear and unlined. Frodo thought that he looked younger than he did, but neither looked their real age.

'How old are you anyway?' he asked.

Legolas laughed. 'Old,' he said. 'Old to you.'

'You don't look old.'

'Appearances are only deceiving if you were expecting something else.'

Frodo nodded. He heard Gimli saying good-bye to Boromir on his way out the door. He wondered when the other hobbits would wake up. He wondered when Legolas would leave. He regretted bringing the nightmares up. In truth he didn't want to discuss them with anyone. He had tried talking to Sam about them, but even that hadn't turned out the way he wanted. Sam had just wound up troubled and confused.

'I guess I was expecting more wrinkles,' he said and laughed.

Legolas smiled at him, but his eyes were still grave. 'If you ever need to talk,' he said, and then left.

Frodo locked the door behind him and went to brush his teeth.

When Frodo emerged from the bathroom the other hobbits were already up. Pippin and Merry were sitting on the sofa watching 'Clifford the Big Red Dog' with Boromir, who was alternating between looking confused and bored. Frodo couldn't see Legolas or Sam.

He got some strawberry yoghurt from the fridge and sat down on one end of the sofa.

'How are you liking it?' he asked Boromir.

'I don't understand,' said Boromir. 'Why did they keep the dog? How do they feed it? Why is it red?'

Frodo shrugged and pulled the lid of his yoghurt container.

'It's not supposed to be realistic, it's a children's show,' Merry said.

'Where's Sam?' Frodo asked.

'In Aragorn's room with Legolas,' Merry said. 'They're researching.'

'Legolas certainly does that a lot.' Boromir shifted on the sofa. 'Do we have to watch this?'

'No,' Pippin said. 'We were just watching your face anyway.' He picked up the remote and switched the channel. Pippin settled back again next to Boromir, who put an arm around his shoulder.

'Don't you have work?' Frodo asked Boromir.

'No,' Boromir said. 'I got a new job, but it doesn't start until four in the evening.'

Boromir pointed at the television screen. 'What's this?'

'Friends,' said Merry. 'It's great.' He wrapped himself up in a blanket. 'That's Ross,' he told Boromir, 'and that's Monica. They're brother and sister. And that's Monica's friend, Rachel. Ross likes her.'

Boromir stared at the screen. 'It still feels like they can see us,' he said.

'Oh, they can't. Legolas looked it up,' said Pippin. 'Now, you should like this show, it's for grown-ups.'

Frodo couldn't bring himself to get interested in the episode. He was still worried about the nightmares. He wished Gandalf were there so he could talk to him about it. Or Bilbo, even. Bilbo would probably understand better than most.

He finished his yoghurt and went into Aragorn's room to find Sam. Sam was sitting in Aragorn's green spindle chair, watching Legolas google. Frodo pulled himself up onto the bed next to Legolas and looked at the screen. Legolas was reading about NASA.

'Why don't you look up Gandalf?' Frodo asked.

'But he's not from here,' Sam said.

Frodo shrugged. 'It's worth giving it a try. We need to find out exactly where we are.'

'We're in Boston, Massachusetts,' said Sam.

'Yes, but we need to know where we are in relation to Middle-earth. Gandalf's gone lots of places. He might even have gone here.'

'Frodo's right,' said Legolas. 'It is worth a try.' He looked down at the keyboard. 'How would Gandalf be spelled in English? G-A-N-D.' He paused. 'U or A.'

'Try A.' Frodo said.

'A-L-F.' Legolas typed the name into the search box and hit enter.

There was a moment's wait, and then writing filled the screen.

'_Lord of the Rings Online—Live the story that started it all! Join the fellowship in Middle-earth! Try free for 10 days!_' Frodo read. 'What do you think that means?'

'No idea,' Legolas said. 'But it mentioned Middle-earth.'

Sam jumped off the chair and climbed up onto the bed on the other side of Legolas.

Frodo read the next result. '_Gandalf—Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia __**Gandalf**__ is a fictional character in J.R.R. Tolkien's novels _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the Rings_. In these stories,__** Gandalf **__appears as a wizard…' _

Legolas clicked on the entry. The three read on silence. Legolas stopped scrolling. 'Oh,' he said. 'Oh.'

Sam sat quietly, staring ahead of him. He puffed his cheeks out with air and then let it out slowly. 'Dancing cabbages,' he said.

'We're a legend here,' Legolas said.

'Then,' said Frodo. 'We must be in the future.'

Legolas nodded, and then touched the screen. 'But it says here that _The Lord of the Rings is_ a book written by J.R.R. Tolkien.'

'Was he a historian?' Frodo asked.

Legolas shook his head. 'No, he was an author.' He clicked on the name. 'He wrote fiction.'

'We're fiction?' said Sam.

'Boromir?' Legolas called. 'Boromir, could you come here?'

'Just a moment,' Boromir called back.

'Please?' Legolas's voice was tight.

Boromir walked into the room and leaned against the doorway. 'What?'

'You should probably read this.'

* * *

'I'm going to miss having Boromir at work,' Aragorn said to Gimli as they walked down the steps to the subway station.

'It's a better job,' said Gimli. 'He'll make more money.'

'True,' said Aragorn. He swiped his Charlie Card and walked through the opened gates. A moment later Gimli followed him.

'Oh, it's going to be crowded,' Aragorn groaned.

They hurried to their platform. The train hadn't pulled in yet. The station reverberated with conversations. Gimli liked the cavernous feeling of the station. He stood by Aragorn, who was peering down the dark tunnel waiting for the train to pull in. Water was dripping from the ceiling into a white bucket that had been placed beneath the leak.

'What did you pack for lunch?' Gimli asked.

'Tuna sandwich,' Aragorn said. 'You?'

'Noodles and some of that leftover beef.'

The train came screaming into the station, making the air smell like metal. The doors opened and people spilled out onto the platform. More people crammed on. Gimli and Aragorn pushed their way into the train. Aragorn found a spot standing and held onto one of the metal bars that ran near the ceiling. Gimli held onto his waist since the bars were too high up for him to reach. The train started with a jolt, and they rushed off into the darkness.

'That elf figured out anything useful?' Gimli asked as they bumped along.

'Nothing we haven't known,' said Aragorn. 'We haven't got any leads.'

'So, what are we going to do?'

'Live.'

'We should go the mountains, said Gimli. 'See if there are any dwarves. I could talk to them.'

'I don't know,' Aragorn said.

'We haven't got anything else to go on,' said Gimli. 'So we should try this.'

'And what if we don't find anything? It could be a very dangerous path to take.'

'It would be better than just staying here getting nowhere,' Gimli said.

'I still don't know.'

'I could go.'

The windows of the train suddenly burst with light as they emerged from underground up into the city. Aragorn squinted at the windows. Gimli watched the buildings go by.

'I could go alone.'

Aragorn sighed. 'We'll have to think about it.'

Gimli nodded.

The name of the next stop rang through the carriage.

'We could lose you,' said Aragorn. 'You could be lost.'

'Yes.' The train rolled past the harbour. Aragorn watched it. 'Legolas doesn't know we're by the sea,' he said.

'So?' Gimli said.

'You don't know what the sea does to an elf, do you?' Aragorn said.

'Nope. What does the sea do to an elf?'

Aragorn's eyes darkened as the sea slipped from view. 'It makes go him mad with longing,' he said. 'It makes him want to sail away across it to the Undying Lands.'

Gimli grunted. 'So that's why he can't wander around?'

'Yes,' said Aragorn. 'Well, that and the being excruciatingly beautiful.'

Gimli grunted.

Aragorn looked down at him. 'Do you find him attractive? Or any elves? Or do dwarves not think elves are attractive at all?'

Gimli sighed. 'He's pretty. All elves are pretty. Don't tell him that, he'll say I'm ugly, and I don't need to hear that from him.'

The train jerked to a stop. Gimli was jostled against Aragorn, who held him fast.

'They don't make these things for short people, do they?' Gimli said.

'I guess not.'

The train started up again.

'You're the next stop,' Gimli said.

'Yep.'

'You get off the same time today?'

'Yep.'

'Were you self-conscious about your appearance growing up – being raised in Rivendell surrounded by elves and all?'

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. 'You probably don't want to ask me that with only two minutes left for me to answer.'

Gimli nodded. 'I guess not.'

Aragorn got off at the next stop. He waved good-bye to Gimli through the window and then hurried away to work. Gimli watched him go and then found the back of a chair to hold on to. The train started again.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

Gimli held the scanner over another item. _Beep._

There was beeping all around him. It was driving him insane.

Toilet paper, toilet paper, napkins, steak, diapers, milk, milk, milk, bath towels, shampoo, frozen peas, juice, chicken breasts, chicken thighs, marshmallows, Popsicles, Popsicles, Popsicles, ice cream, butter.

_Beep, beep, beep. _

He kept his mouth shut and his head down. He had grown up knowing how to keep his mouth shut. He had an unsteady childhood, wandering here and there, without a place to call home. His father had worked with iron – making nails, making fences, shoeing horses. He had taught Gimli what he knew, and Gimli had worked with his head bent and his mouth shut. And they never told anyone what they really owned – what really belonged to them.

'That will be $113.53, please,' he said.

She swiped a card and punched her pin in. The receipt came through. Gimli ripped it off and handed it to her.

He smiled. 'Have a great day.'


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Boromir sat down on the bed behind Frodo. 'Huh,' he said. He rubbed Frodo's shoulder absently. 'Scroll down.'

Legolas shook his head but tapped the down button.

Boromir skimmed over the article. The words seemed to swim on the screen in front of him. He was having a hard time making any of them out. He let out the breath he had been holding in, and his grip on Frodo's shoulder tightened. 'Damn.'

Legolas opened a new tab and quickly typed his name into the search box. He clicked on the Lord of the Rings wiki, opening it in a new tab, and then clicked on images.

'Legolas is well-known for becoming friends with the dwarf, Gimli,' Frodo read out loud off the wiki page.

Legolas made a slight face and clicked on the images page. It was filled with photographs of a blond man with pointed ears dressed in green.

'This is ridiculous,' Legolas said. He scrolled up to the top of the page and typed in 'Frodo.' The page was soon filled with images of a young man with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. The picture on the far right of the first row showed the Ring falling down towards Frodo's upheld finger.

'Wow,' said Frodo. 'Just wow.'

'What do we do?' Boromir asked. He was still clutching at Frodo's shoulder.

'We think coherently,' said Legolas. He typed in 'Middle-earth,' opened a few links in another tab. Then he typed in 'The Lord of the Rings.' He frowned. 'They made movies.'

'That's where the pictures are from,' said Frodo.

Legolas nodded.

Laughter on the television came in from the living room. It sounded mocking and artificial. Boromir glanced at the door but soon turned his attention back to the computer.

'This…this is incredible,' Boromir murmured. 'It's impossible.'

Legolas shook his head. 'Not quite impossible,' he said. His voice was strangely strong. 'We could be in the future.'

'In the future of what?' asked Merry from the doorway. Pippin was standing behind him, still dressed in his pyjamas. More laughter followed after them.

'The future of Middle-earth,' said Frodo. 'You wouldn't believe what we just found.'

They spent the rest of the morning reading articles about what was apparently the world of 'The Lord of the Rings' created by a man named 'Tolkien.' No one dared read too far, however, and they just glanced at the top of articles about themselves. It seemed an unspoken rule not to ask to know their own futures.

Legolas soon found a page about the history of Middle-earth and read through that to see how accurate the history was. There were mentions of Fëanor and Fingolfin, Morgoth and Sauron. There were details missing, a few mistakes, but the history he had learned was mostly there, staring back at him on the screen.

'So we're in the future?' Boromir said. They had just read the history of Gondor, and his heart was racing. Never in his life had he imagined something like this possible. Never.

'I guess so,' Legolas said.

'Look up Bilbo,' Frodo said.

Legolas obliged him, and they were soon reading about the events of Bilbo's journey in a book entitled _The Hobbit or There and Back Again. _Another couple hours passed looking through a rather garbled copy of _The Hobbit_ that they found online.

'It's Bilbo's book,' said Frodo. 'Sort of. Not entirely.' He shook his head. 'I don't know what to think.'

'I don't think anyone knows what to think, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam. He ran a hand through his hair. 'That's quite a shocker.'

Merry nodded quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.

Boromir rubbed his nose and glanced at the time. 'I've got to get to work,' he said. 'I have a training I have to do.' He was grateful for the excuse to leave; it would give him time to think.

Legolas shut his computer slowly. 'Someone's got to tell Aragorn,' he said.

Boromir shook his head. 'We'll wait for him to get home.'

'No,' Legolas said. 'He needs to know now. It's important. We have to hide our identities. I don't think he's been doing that.' He looked at Boromir. 'Has he?'

'He used an alias.'

'What alias?'

Boromir shrugged. 'Strider?'

Legolas sighed. 'Someone has to tell him and Gimli. They need to know.'

'I can't go,' Boromir said. 'I have work. And you don't know how to get there, and we can't send the Hobbits out.'

'Hey,' Merry said. 'I could go.'

'You could ride the subway?'

'Sure I could.'

Legolas shook his head. 'I'll go.'

'But,' Merry said.

'You can't go because you look too much like a child,' said Legolas.

'And you can't go because you look too much like a woman,' Boromir said to Legolas.

'I do not.' He paused, thinking about Nienor, who had disguised herself as an elf man. 'Maybe a little.'

'You can't go.'

Legolas rolled his eyes as he shut the laptop. 'I'll be fine.'

'No, you won't be fine,' Boromir said. 'You'll be stared at and probably harassed, and people will be trying to guess your sex or what you are, and you'll just cause a distraction.'

'I won't cause a distraction,' Legolas snapped.

'Yes, you will. Because you're,' Boromir did air quotes, ' "fair of face beyond the measure of Men." '

'Do you want me to punch you?'

They stared at each other. Legolas narrowed his eyes at him, looking ready to attack.

Boromir sighed, knowing he couldn't convince him otherwise. 'Okay,' he said. 'You'll go. Let me draw you a map.'

* * *

Aragorn lifted a box off the trolley. He was packing a truck for a glass company. The boxes were not too heavy, but there were so many of them that they took their toll. He handed it to Taylor, who was standing on the truck above me.

'Can't wait for lunch. You?' said Taylor. He was a tall, broad chap with large hands and brown eyes.

Aragorn nodded his agreement. Boromir was a lucky fellow to land a job as a bartender – he would have been glad of such a change. He rubbed his back and turned to the next box.

'The sun will be hot today,' he said. He could already feel the air and the heat closing in around them. 'Do you think, Taylor, that today will be better or worse than yesterday?' he asked after a moment.

Taylor shook his head. 'There's no way to tell.'

Aragorn nodded. Yesterday it had been raining, and the humidity still hung heavy in the air.

'I suppose,' continued Taylor, 'that it all depends on whether you prefer to drown, or to fry.'

Aragorn smiled wryly.

'What do you think, would you like a nice freak snow storm to come flying in and scare the living daylights out of any and all?' asked Taylor, good-humouredly.

'I don't know,' said Aragorn, handing him another box.

'Will you stop chatting?' asked Jared, another one of his co-workers. 'I'm trying to work here.'

'Sorry,' said Aragorn with a frown.

Jared returned it and turned back to his work. He was a bad-tempered man whose main hobby appeared to be trying to make everyone around him just as miserable as he was.

'What's gotten into you today, Jared?' asked Taylor. He said it with a smile; he liked to tease Jared about his foul temperament, which only made Jared angrier.

'Nothing. It's just that some people around here prefer to get their work done without a bunch of jabbering to give them a headache.' He turned his permanently sunburnt, sweating face away and read the label on one of the boxes. He shoved it up with the rest.

Aragorn fell into silence, the swift, harmonious rhythm of his work soon taking over him. It was hard work, but he was strong and had no need to complain. Taylor, he could tell, missed talking, but he could get by without it. He was used to being his own company. Long years in the woods had taught him that.

'Aragorn!' Legolas's clear voice broke the silence.

He looked up to see Legolas hurrying towards him, his face awash with concern and fear. Aragorn's heart skipped.

He thrust the box he was holding at Taylor and rushed to Legolas and caught him by the shoulders. 'What is it?' he demanded. 'What's wrong? Is Frodo all right? Did something happen?'

Legolas shook his head. 'No, it's not like that. They're fine. He's fine. But I have to talk to you.

'Is it important?'

'Yes, very. But it is hard to explain.'

Aragorn glanced back at Taylor and Jared. Taylor was watching him with concern, but Jared was frowning again.

'Can it wait?' Aragorn asked. 'We can't really afford for me to loose my job.'

Legolas frowned. 'Yes, I suppose so, but it is distressing.'

Aragorn glanced at his watch. 'I have lunch in forty minutes,' he said. 'Can you tell me then?'

Legolas nodded.

'Okay.' Aragorn squeezed his shoulders.

Legolas sat down on of the large rocks framing the perimeter of the parking lot and hugged his knees.

It was then that Aragorn noticed his disguise. Legolas had dressed himself as a woman. It was actually a very good disguise; no one would be able to tell differently. But Elves were good with disguises, as he well knew, having seen quite a few of them, some of which had succeeded in fooling even him. Legolas looked up and smiled at him, but he still looked worried.

'I'll see you soon,' Aragorn said and returned to his work. But there was a problem. They were quite near the sea, and he was afraid that a sea gull or a change in wind would set Legolas off in a sudden burst of sea madness. He couldn't afford to lose him. He had never seen an elf's first encounter with the sea, but tales he had heard did little to lighten his worries. He was afraid that Legolas would be filled with such longing to escape the world they were trapped in that he would build a boat and sail away, leaving the rest of the Fellowship behind. Truthfully he didn't know how Legolas managed to get there without being affected – the train went right past the sea. But the train was a contained environment, if he hadn't been looking… He looked back at Legolas, who was still sitting on the rock watching the men work with slight curiosity.

'Is that your girlfriend?' asked Taylor, nodding at Legolas.

'Pardon?' said Aragorn, snapping out of his thoughts.

'Your girlfriend?'

'I…' Aragorn trailed off, not certain what to say and wondering where Legolas had gotten the brilliant idea to play dress up. 'Well, actually—'

'Must you talk?' Jared was glowering at him. 'You're giving me another headache.'

They fell back into silence, and the next half hour slipped quickly away.

'Lunch break!' called the supervisor. 'You've got until 1:30. Enjoy the sun.'

'Yeah,' said Jared. 'Like we haven't had enough enjoyment of that already.' He grabbed his lunchbox and walked away.

Aragorn went over to Legolas, who glanced up at him, biting his lip.

Aragorn sat down on the rock beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'What's troubling you, my friend?'

'We found something,' Legolas said. He looked around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear them. 'I looked up Gandalf,' said Legolas quietly, 'on the computer. And myself. And…well, everyone.' He lapsed into silence.

'Yes?' Aragorn said.

Legolas shrugged. 'It's hard to explain. We, all of us, we, well…we don't really exist here.'

'Yes.'

'But.' Legolas inched a bit closer as if ready to share the secret to the destruction of an empire. 'It's more complicated than just that. We don't _exist_, and yet we _are_.'

'We are?' Aragorn took him by the chin and looked him straight in the eye. 'What are we?'

'We are a work of fiction.'

Aragorn frowned. 'Come again?'

'We are story, or rather, we are from a story. Like we're from a history, except it's fictional. We're all fictional characters here, Aragorn. All of us.'

'Fictional characters?'

Legolas nodded. 'We come from a book called _The Lord of the Rings_ by J.R.R. Tolkien. It is a story about the Ring and about our quest. But it's a story. It's just supposed to be a story…' he trailed off, confused, and looked to the blue sky above.

Aragorn looked up too, and that is when he saw it.

A solitary seagull hung suspended in the air above them, wings stretched out white from its body; slowly it wheeled round and opened its beak to cry. Legolas watched it, transfixed, his eyes following it through flight.

'What sort of bird is that?' he asked softly, gazing at in wonder.

The gull's beak stretched open as Aragorn grabbed Legolas and flung him to the ground. He covered Legolas's ears with his hands and cried, 'it's nothing!' as the bird let out a wail.

'Stop! Stop!' Legolas shouted, twisting away from. 'Let go of me! Aragorn, let go!' He kicked against him. 'Stop it!'

'Legolas, stay still!' Aragorn said, grabbing him tighter.

Legolas stopped fighting; he lay shaking on the ground.

Aragorn scanned the sky. The gull was nowhere in sight.

Hands grabbed Aragorn and lugged him off Legolas. Taylor stood, shaking with anger. 'What the hell is going on?' he demanded, shaking Aragorn by the shoulders. 'Huh?'

Legolas sat up, brushing his hair off his face and pushing the blue skirt he was wearing down over his legs.

Taylor glared at Aragorn. 'What the hell were you doing?'

Aragorn glanced down at Legolas, who was getting to his feet.

'There was a bee,' said Aragorn. 'She's allergic to bees.'

Taylor looked at Legolas, who nodded slowly. 'I'm allergic.'

Taylor let go of Aragorn. 'Sorry,' he said.

Aragorn nodded. 'No,' he said. 'It's all right, I would have done the same.'

Taylor walked a little ways away and went back to his lunch.

Aragorn turned to Legolas. 'You need to go home,' he said.

'I need to tell Gimli.'

'No.' Aragorn shook his head. 'You need to go home right now. And you need to stay there. Do you understand?'

Legolas shook his head. 'Why? What was that about? What was that bird?'

Aragorn pressed a finger over his lips. 'Hush,' he said. 'We'll talk about it later.' He touched the elf's cheek lightly. 'It was just one of the reasons that I don't want you out here.'

'Why?'

Aragorn sighed. 'You'll just have to trust me. Now go straight home, and don't make any stops along the way, and don't take another route, and don't look up.'

'Why not?'

'Because that could prove very dangerous.' He ran a hand through his hair. Taylor was still watching them. 'Please, just listen to me. I'll explain later.'

Legolas studied his face for a few moments before nodding. 'All right,' he said.

Aragorn patted his shoulder. 'Okay?'

Legolas turned and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The trip back home was uneventful. Legolas got stared at plenty, so he kept his head down and tried to ignore everyone. The subway was dingy and horrible and too loud. He was glad when he reached his stop and hurried home as quickly as he could without full out running in the streets.

The air in the lobby of their apartment building was sticky and smelt like melting peppermints. The air conditioning whined by a window, but everyone living there knew it didn't work. The box was just for show.

Legolas took the elevator up to the sixth floor. It rose smoothly with a faint hum. The fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered. He leaned against the interior rails and waited for the final bump that would indicate the ride was over. He felt like cargo lifted on a pulley.

The elevator bumped to a halt and the doors glided open. He stepped out into the clean hallway just outside their apartment. Hurrying to the door, he almost collided with a short woman coming out of the neighbouring apartment.

'Pardon me,' he said quickly.

'No, no, it's all my fault,' said the woman, shaking her head vigorously. 'I am such a klutz!'

He gave her half a smile and pulled out his key.

'I should introduce myself,' said the woman. 'I'm Janet Thorne, but you can call me Jan. I live next door.' She nodded her head vigorously at the door she had just exited.

Legolas looked at her curiously. She was small and thin, with curly black hair cut just above her shoulders and sparkling brown eyes. 'A pleasure to meet you,' he said politely.

'And you are?' she asked.

'I am Legolas,' he said before thinking. Then he froze, kicking himself mentally. 'Long story there.' He forced a laugh.

'Oh, I'd love to hear it sometime!' She smiled. 'Well, Legolas, it is so nice to meet you.' She took his hand and gave it a firm, quick shake. 'I was just coming over to give you a welcome and these brownies I made.' She held up a foil pan covered with a bright, floral cloth. 'I got the recipe from my grandmother. It's a family secret.' She winked.

'Thank you,' said Legolas, and, unable to think of a reason to keep her out, let her in.

The apartment was terribly hot. Both windows in the living room were thrown open, and the doors to his bedroom and the bathroom were open; their windows were open as well, but it was doing little to quell the heat. Legolas felt like he was cutting through it as he stepped inside.

The sofa was still piled with blankets and pillows, and dirty clothing was spilling out of the hamper that stood next to the dishwasher. The counter was mostly clean, but an empty pitcher of what looked like iced tea was sitting near the sink.

'Sorry. Mess,' he murmured just as Jan exclaimed, 'what a charming place!'

They smiled at each other awkwardly, and Legolas ran a hand through his hair. 'Just got home,' he said.

'Oh, well never mind that,' Jan said. She looked around. 'It reminds me of my own apartment. But same building, there's no surprise there!' She smiled and handed him the pan of brownies.

Legolas took the pan from her with another 'thank you' and set it on the counter next to the pitcher. He put the pitcher in the sink.

'You have children?'

Legolas followed her gaze to the laundry hamper. The hobbits' little shirts and socks were plainly visible.

'Yes,' Legolas said. 'Four.' He had figured that the hobbits were probably in Gimli and Boromir's room, and he was hoping they would stay there.

'Four! Why, that's a lot!' She beamed at him. 'I have one myself. A little girl. Her name is Debbie, and...' she broke off, smiling at something behind Legolas. He turned.

'Ah, you're back!' It was Frodo. He had just stepped out of Boromir and Gimli's room, thankfully with socks on.

'Oh, he's so cute!' Jan waved at Frodo. 'Hello there, dear.'

Frodo looked at Legolas, eyebrows raised. Legolas shrugged helplessly and swung his crooked arms back and forth over his chest, pantomiming rocking a baby.

For a moment Frodo looked confused, then he looked horrified, but he quickly swallowed that and put on his best innocent little boy face. 'Hi,' he said to Jan.

Merry peeked around the doorway. 'Hi!' He ducked back into the room. Legolas heard him whisper, 'Pip, socks.'

A couple moments later all four hobbits stood in the living room watching Jan with big, curious eyes.

'Good afternoon!' said Merry cheerfully. 'I'm M—'

'Mattie,' Legolas said quickly. 'One of the twins!' He clapped his hands together and put on his best smile.

'Oh, they're adorable!' Jan exclaimed. 'Hello, dears!'

'Hi!' Pippin waved. 'I'm Pippin!'

'Pippin and Mattie are twins,' said Legolas, hurrying over to the hobbits. 'And this is…' he paused, trying to think of another modern name. 'John.' He put a hand on Frodo's shoulder. 'And…Heathcliff.' He tousled Sam's curls.

'Nice to meet you,' said Frodo.

'Mum!' cried Pippin and threw his arms around Legolas. He gave him a tight squeeze and then raced back into the bedroom, presumably to die of laughter.

Legolas smiled again. 'That's Pip for you!'

'So I take it you have an interest in English literature?' Jan said.

'Um,' Legolas said before _Wuthering Heights_ sprang to mind. That's why Heathcliff had sounded familiar. 'As a matter of fact, yes, I do.'

'Oh, that's lovely.' Jan laid a hand over her heart. 'I'm a high school English teacher.'

'Oh.' Legolas paused, then smiled again. 'A noble profession. Their father, um, Dante, is a huge fan of literature. He just loves _Wuthering Heights_!'

'Wonderful book,' said Jan. 'One of my favourite stories. Speaking of stories, how did you get your name?'

'Well,' Legolas said. 'My parents were huge fans of _The Lord of the Rings_, by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, so they wanted to name me after one of the characters in it.' He swallowed. 'And…well, they were going to go with Aragorn for a boy and Arwen for a girl, but then I came out a girl,' he swallowed again, 'and I didn't have dark hair, so they thought Arwen didn't really fit.' He glanced down as Pippin came out of the bedroom, still shaking with silent giggles. 'So…they thought they'd name me Galadriel, but that was too hard to say all the time, and they liked Legolas, so I got Legolas, even though I was a girl. And that's how I got my name.'

'Ah,' said Jan. 'Interesting.'

'Won't you sit down?' Frodo said quickly, waving to the sofa. Sam jumped forward and dragged the blankets off into Legolas's room.

'Oh, thank you!' Jan sat down.

'Tea? Coffee?' asked Merry.

'Tea would be lovely, if isn't any trouble.'

'No trouble at all!' Merry hurried into the kitchen and, climbing up on the step stool, began to fill the teapot with water.

'Now, what was your name again?' Jan asked Frodo.

'…John,' Frodo said.

'How old are you John?'

'He's twelve,' Legolas said. 'Heathcliff is eleven, and Mattie and…Pippin are both ten.'

'Oh.' Jan looked very confused. She looked back and forth between the hobbits and Legolas.

It took Legolas another few moments to remember that the hobbits were far too short to be those ages. Human children at twelve were about five feet tall. Silently cursing himself, he grabbed for the plate of brownies. 'Mmm!' he said. 'These look really good.'

'They are,' said Jan. 'Family secret, like I told you. So, Legolas, what do you do for work?'

'I don't work,' Legolas said. 'I stay at home with the children.'

'Where do they go to school?' she asked.

'I actually teach them at home,' said Legolas.

'Well, isn't that interesting!' Jan crossed her legs at the ankles. She was wearing dark purple skinny jeans and gold ballet flats.

'And how old is your daughter?' Legolas asked.

'She's nine,' said Jan. 'She's at a summer camp right now, for acting. She's always loved to act.' She turned to Frodo, who was still standing by watching her curiously.

'And what do you like to do, John?'

'I like reading,' said Frodo.

'Do you now?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'What do you like reading?'

'History and lore, mostly. Some stories.'

'Ah,' Jan said. 'Well, you're going to grow into an intelligent young man. What about you, Heathcliff?'

'I like to garden and cook,' said Sam, 'and I do love poetry.'

'You like to cook?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'And he's one of the best cooks I've ever known,' said Merry with a smile. 'Isn't he, Pip?'

'Yes, he is a wonderful cook.'

'How old are you again, Heathcliff?'

'Um, well,' Sam stammered.

'He's eleven,' said Legolas.

She smiled again. 'Well, that must be fun—cooking with your mom, I suppose? What do you like, Matt?'

Merry smiled. 'I like eating,' he said, 'and smo—'

'Yes, especially s'mores. Matt is just crazy about s'mores,' interrupted Legolas with a grimace in Merry's direction.

'Yes, s'mores are good, aren't they?' Jan nodded her agreement vigorously.

Merry did not answer.

'And what about you, Pippin?'

'I like to sleep,' said Pippin mischievously.

Frodo smirked. 'That you do, Pip.'

The kettle started to whistle. Legolas quickly got out a teapot and filled it. He got out cups and saucers too. 'Sugar? Milk?'

'Both, thank you.'

Legolas opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. 'So, tell us more about yourself,' he said, in a bid to stop the hobbits from giving themselves away.

He brought the tea things to the coffee table and then sat on the sofa beside Jan. Pippin quickly climbed up onto his lap.

Merry hid his laughter with a coughing fit.

'Are you okay, dear?' asked Jan.

'Yes, yes,' he gasped, face red. 'I'm fine. Now do tell us about yourself, please.'

This invitation launched Jan into a very long and very detailed story about her life that seemed to have no end and no beginning and no middle and no point. The hobbits listened, enthralled. Legolas knew that they were very social creatures and had undoubtedly been dying for company.

Jan, well, Jan could talk. It was actually a little endearing. Normally Legolas would listen to tales that mortals had to tell about themselves. It was interesting to see life spans coming together in so little time. But right now the afternoon was speeding away, and he didn't really want to be stuck in this predicament when Gimli came home from work. Gimli got off work first each afternoon and got home at 4:30. If Gimli came home and found Legolas playing mother to the four hobbits he was sure he would die of embarrassment.

'My, my,' Merry was saying, 'Isn't that interesting!'

'And you have such a wonderful husband from what I have heard,' added Frodo, 'Tell us how you met.'

Jan, of course, could not refuse such an offer. They had met at an all women's book club, which he did not attend. He had come to pick up his sister, and she wound up carpooling with them. This led to that and she asked him out for brunch that Saturday. Twelve years later and things were still going beautifully. She could never have asked for a better man.

Legolas looked again at the clock. Time was slipping by. He touched his hair, which he had carefully braided over his ears, to make sure it still covered the tips. Elven ears were more pointed than human ears, and he did not want to have to make up a story about that.

Jan was talking about her daughter again. She was getting the lead role in _Cinderella_. She was a very good singer, she always had been. And she was just about their age.

Legolas looked from Jan to the hobbits, hoping that Jan would not want to set up a play date. He sipped his now cold tea and thought about how hot the place was.

The front door opened, and Gimli walked in, tired and grumpy. His beard and hair were all frizzy from the heat. He stopped when he saw Jan.

'Hello, ma'am,' he said, with a bow.

Jan was staring at him with a look of sudden understanding. She looked at the little hobbits and then at Gimli again. She smiled pleasantly. 'Hello, I live just next door. My name's Janet Thorne, but everyone calls me Jan. I was having the most wonderful time meeting your family. You do have the sweetest kids.'

Gimli stared at her solemnly, and then turned his gaze on Legolas. He looked over his outfit. He then looked at the hobbits.

Legolas fidgeted uncomfortably. He folded his arms, then unfolded them, and tapped his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Gimli said graciously.

'I am so happy you're home, Dante,' Legolas said in the sweetest voice he could manage without gagging.

'Your kids are charming! Charming!' Jan exclaimed. 'And your wife is one of the nicest women I have ever met. I bet you count yourself lucky.'

Frodo was trembling with laughter now. Sam was staring between Legolas and Gimli, wide-eyed. Merry seemed frozen in place, and Pippin carefully took away Legolas's tea cup.

Gimli's face went red. 'Very lucky,' he said. 'I'm going to make dinner now.' He walked over to the refrigerator.

'Well, I should get going,' Jan said. 'It was so nice to meet all of you. We should really get together again sometime,' she said, smiling at Legolas.

'Yeah, sure,' he said.

Jan waved good-bye to all of them and then disappeared out the door. For a few moments all was silent, and then the hobbits looked at each other and all promptly burst into laughter.

'I'm going to die,' Legolas said and threw himself face down onto the sofa. 'I'm going to die!'

'You're not going to die,' said Gimli. 'I wouldn't want our children bereft of a mother.'

Merry shrieked with laughter at that one and promptly started hiccupping.

'I hate you!' Legolas told Gimli. 'And you are not their father!'

'Oh,' said Frodo. 'So who is our father?'

'You don't deserve one,' Legolas snapped, glaring at them.

'Let's see,' said Pippin. 'Is it Boromir or Aragorn?'

'I think it's probably Aragorn,' Merry hiccupped.

'Yes, probably,' Frodo rejoined.

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but realized that he was terribly outnumbered, which rendered protesting most certainly futile. He settled for glaring at them instead.

'So,' said Merry, suppressing his hiccups and giving Legolas the most innocent look he could muster. 'When's our daddy coming home?'

'I don't want to talk to any of you!' Legolas declared and locked himself in his room.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

'What was that all about?' Gimli asked as he tied himself into an apron.

'Um,' Frodo said, suddenly becoming serious again. He stuck his hands into his pockets.

'He was pretending to be our mother 'cause he thinks we look like children,' Pippin said, still giggling.

'What beneath the mountains for?' Gimli asked, grabbing a bag of carrots and pulling out a handful. He lined them up on the counter top and next to the potatoes.

'So that she wouldn't know who we really are,' said Merry.

Pippin nodded, growing more sombre.

Gimli pulled out a potato peeler. 'Why can't she know who we really are?'

'Well…' Frodo scratched at his ear. 'Didn't Legolas tell you? He went out to tell you and Strider.'

'Tell us what?'

'This is the future…apparently,' Merry said.

'And we're part of this legend that everyone thinks is fiction,' said Frodo.

Gimli quietly peeled the carrots, strip by strip.

'We're in a book,' said Merry. 'We read about it online.'

'Hmm,' Gimli said. He stacked the carrots on the cutting board and began to chop them, starting from the skinny end and working his way up to the top. He dumped the slices into a saucepan. 'So that's what happened?'

'I guess so,' Pippin said. 'It's very odd.'

'Very,' Frodo agreed.

Gimli nodded gravely. 'Tell me more.'

* * *

The subway train jostled along its track, shaking Aragorn where he sat. His head was buzzing with questions. He stared down at his boots. The carriage smelt sickly sweet from shampoos and perfumes and sour from sweat all at once. His jeans were clinging to his legs. He pulled at the collar of his black T-shirt and concentrated on breathing through his mouth.

It seemed years before he reached his stop, and in each of those years, ten thousand terrible things happened. Legolas had been lying, an impersonator – Saruman disguised. They had been bewitched by Sauron – the Ring taken. They had really been fiction, and come alive into the world, not knowing that they did not truly exist. Tolkien was a time-travelling wizard who had written the book as a joke to mock them.

He was crazy; he always had been.

Aragorn reeled sideways as the train came to a sudden stop. He slipped out of the half-empty carriage and made his way out of the station.

The streets were still hot, shimmering. Aragorn trudged down the street, limping slightly, having strained a muscle in his leg at work. He wished for the comfort of moss and leaves about him, trees bending above him and a singing stream. The air here stank and was filled with noises that fought each other.

There was a man outside their building taking pictures with his phone. Apparently he thought the sign Mrs. Stover had taped to her window was funny: 'Beware the watch cats. They will watch you.' A cat sat on the windowsill beside the sign. Its tail twitched.

Merry opened the door to the apartment before Aragorn had pulled his key out. 'Hey,' he said, smiling a little.

Aragorn nodded and stepped in. 'Boromir's not home?'

'He won't be home until eight,' said Merry. 'He's got training and then half a shift.'

Aragorn nodded again. He looked at Gimli, who was poring over the bills.

'We're not going to make it,' Gimli said. He gathered the bills together and tapped them a few times on the table to straighten them and make the edges even.

'Yeah.' Aragorn pulled his boots off. 'Where's Legolas?'

'In his room, dying of embarrassment,' said Merry nonchalantly. He dropped back onto the sofa and grabbed the remote from Pippin.

'He told you, right?' Frodo asked. 'About…the book?'

'Yeah.' Aragorn knocked on Legolas's door. 'May I come in?'

There was a groan, a pause, and then the door opened. Legolas looked at him; his eyes were distant and his hair, which he had let loose, was a mess. He had taken off the disguise and was now dressed in a simple, wrinkled, brown tunic.

'We need to talk,' he said.

'I know.'

Legolas folded his arms. 'I haven't got many explanations. This…Tolkien, who wrote about us, he…he was interested in old stories. He read myths, translated them. The hobbits think we're in the future now. They think he found the records that we left. But Tolkien had drafts – drafts and drafts and drafts – of us: our story. You,' he pointed a finger at Aragorn, 'you were originally a hobbit who wore wooden shoes.' He smiled. 'Why would you be a hobbit?'

Aragorn stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

Legolas sighed. 'We're a story,' he said. 'We're fiction. We aren't _real_.'

Aragorn put his hands on Legolas's shoulders. 'Legolas, calm down.'

'I am calm,' Legolas snapped. 'I've never been calmer.'

'All right,' Aragorn said, rubbing his shoulders. 'So you're trying to tell me that we don't really exist, and that we're just the products of someone's imagination?'

'Pretty much,' Legolas answered, shrugging his hands off. 'We were all invented by this Tolkien—'

'But—' Aragorn began.

'Don't get too mad; he's supposed to be a genius.'

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. 'I'm not mad.'

'Good. Neither am I. I was just telling you very, very calmly that we're all made up by the man who essentially started the fantasy genre!' Legolas smiled again and leaned back against the wall. 'Now, doesn't that all make so much sense?'

'What's the fantasy genre?'

'Elves and magic.' Legolas was actually beaming now.

Aragorn sat down on the bed and massaged his neck. 'Do you know anything else about this Tolkien?'

'A few things about his life, his children. He's dead now.'

Aragorn frowned. 'How widely known is this book? It isn't famous or anything, is it?'

'Oh-no, it's just one of the most beloved books of all time, considered a masterpiece of modern literature, has a devoted following – who just might die for it – and was made into a hugely popular movie trilogy.'

'Oh,' Aragorn said. 'Well, that shouldn't be a problem.' He sighed and stopped rubbing his neck. 'I suppose that means the Ring is known.'

'Yes, I suppose so.'

'We're going to have to be more careful.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, interesting, then.' Aragorn tugged on his shirt. His back was prickling with itches. 'I'm going to take a shower.'

'Don't go.' Legolas sat down on the bed beside him and hugged his knees. Pressing his face against them, he murmured, 'it gets worse.'

Aragorn nodded. 'Okay. How?'

'Our neighbour now thinks that I'm the hobbits' mother,' Legolas whispered.

'What?'

'I met her in disguise, it was the only thing I could think of,' Legolas groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

'I'm sorry,' Aragorn said lamely.

'And then she thought that Gimli was their father,' Legolas added, 'so now we're married.'

'I see.'

They sat in silence for some moments. The kitchen timer beeped. 'Dinner!' Gimli called, but they still did not move. There was a scrambling in the kitchen, the scrape of knives and plates.

'Ai, Aragorn, it's so confusing,' Legolas muttered after some time. 'Where is this?'

Aragorn looked out the window. A man walked down the street carrying a folded umbrella. 'I don't know.'

'What are we going to do about the neighbour?' Legolas cast a disdainful glance at the white wall.

'I'm not sure.' Aragorn frowned. 'Where did you get the idea to dress up as a woman anyway?'

'Boromir mostly. He said I'd blend in better that way.'

'I'm sorry.'

Legolas sank backwards onto the mattress. 'I wish Mithrandir were here.'

'So do I.'

'I made meatloaf!' Gimli called. 'It's good. You'd better come and eat.'

Aragorn patted Legolas's knee and got up. 'Coming?'

'I'm not hungry.'

Aragorn went into the kitchen and got a plate. Leaning against the counter, he slowly ate his dinner. He still had no answer for why Gandalf was not there. He had been right by their side when the Gates of Moria swung open and enveloped them in darkness. Gandalf had been right in front of him. He was the last thing he remembered seeing before he had passed out. He wondered if Gandalf had tried to fight off this thing that had taken them. If he were still in Moria searching for them. If he were dead.

'How are finances?' he asked Gimli, to distract himself.

'I don't think we'll be able to make rent.'

Aragorn took a bite of the potatoes. 'And you don't have any other jewellery you can pawn?'

'No,' Gimli said.

'Okay. Legolas can get a job. Maybe.'

'We still won't be able to make rent for the month.'

'We'll manage.' Aragorn left his plate in the sink for someone else to deal with and went to take a shower. He came out in a towel and threw his dirty shirt on top of the stack of laundry. His jeans he put in his room over the back of the chair.

Legolas was sitting, perched by the window. He was singing softly to himself.

Aragorn pulled on his pyjamas – shorts and a T-shirt – and went back into the living room. It was only 7:20. Sam was doing the dishes. Merry was drying them. Pippin was reading one of the history books Aragorn had picked up from the library. He was struggling with the words, sounding them out carefully. Frodo was sitting on the sofa, idly touching his neck and chest. He stopped when he noticed Aragorn.

'Oh, Strider,' he stammered. 'I think I need to talk to you.'

Aragorn nodded.

'Alone.'

They went to the bathroom, which offered at least an allusion of privacy. Frodo ran the tap to muffle their words, and then sat down on the edge of the tub. Aragorn sat on the floor opposite him and waited for him to speak. Frodo did not speak for a long time. He sat on there, head bent, while the water ran.

Aragorn coughed, but still Frodo did not stir. Aragorn sighed and leaned back against the white counter and looked up at the low ceiling. It was painted light blue to match the blue Formica countertop. Aragorn sighed again and drummed his fingers against his leg. 'What is it, Frodo?'

Frodo looked up as if startled for a dream. 'It's about the Ring,' he said.

Aragorn studied him. 'What about it?'

Frodo looked down at his hands. They were so small that his fingers looked like they could be snapped in two as easily as a matchstick. Aragorn took one of his hands and rubbed it gently. His fingers twitched.

'I was thinking.' Frodo stopped and frowned, then looked up and smiled a lost, little smile. 'Well, it's safer here isn't it? It's out of reach of Sauron and Saruman. It's almost as if it has been lost forever. Perhaps our coming here…perhaps it was not such a bad thing.' He sucked his bottom lip in, took a breath. 'Maybe, we should forget about going back, if there is a way. Or, at least, maybe _I _should. Maybe it's all better this way. Do you think?'

'I don't know, Frodo,' he said. 'I really don't know.'

Frodo shrugged slightly. 'Well, that's what I was thinking.'

'I don't know if there is a way to go back,' Aragorn whispered. 'I don't even know if there is a back.'

'Why not?'

Aragorn looked at the window. The frosted glass sticker over it was peeling at one of the corners. 'Nothing,' he said. 'We'll have to talk when Boromir gets back.'

He tried to offer some helpful, hopeful words, like, 'everything's going to be all right' or 'don't worry about it' or even 'we'll make it. I'm sure,' but they all stuck in his mind, and his tongue was too heavy to move. They were trapped, he knew. Middle-earth was lost to them.

* * *

'So, you like the uniform?'

Boromir looked down at his vest. It was dark blue with shiny golden buttons, and was embroidered all over with multi-coloured numbers in various deep, jewel-like tones.

'It's nice,' he said.

Mr. Smith beamed. 'I designed it myself.'

'It matches the place well.'

The bar that he now worked at was called 'the 9 Numbers.' It was decorated throughout with various, glorious digits. A shining, spinning 9 was turning beside his elbow.

'Good. Good.' Mr. Smith glanced down at the Sudoku puzzle he was carrying. 'And you catch on quickly. It's nice. It's nice.' He frowned. 'Ten or six. Make a note of that.'

Boromir brushed his hair back, nodded. 'Okay.'

Mr. Smith looked up again. 'Do you have any other questions?'

'Yes, actually. Is this place normally this crowded or is this a special night?'

Mr. Smith looked around the room. 'Oh-no, this is actually a light gathering. Wait for the weekend. You'll see people then.'

Boromir nodded. 'And may I ask why you fired your last person so unexpectedly?'

Mr. Smith made a mark on his Sudoku pad. 'I didn't like him. He wasn't flexible. And he was plotting behind my back to steal the bar.'

'Oh,' Boromir said. 'That was a good, secure, reasonable precaution then.'

'Yes!' Mr. Smith exclaimed, blue eyes flashing. 'I'm glad you understand.'

Boromir nodded. 'Okay.'

'Call me if you need help!' Mr. Smith clapped him on the shoulder and then disappeared into the back, muttering, 'there's got to be a mistake,' as he bent over his puzzle.

Boromir watched him go, frowning to himself. It made much more sense now that he had gotten the job, but he supposed he would just have to deal with it. Money was very tight for them.

'Hey,' a beautiful voice said from behind him, and he turned to face a stranger whose face he could swear he knew.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about the delay! I hope you liked this latest chapter. Any guesses on who the stranger is? _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

'Evening,' said Boromir. 'Anything I can get you?'

The man nodded slowly. He was dressed in a black suit and had dark hair swept up off his face and parted severely on the left.. He was wearing sunglasses, so Boromir couldn't see his eyes, but his face had an uneasily familiar appearance to it.

'Tonic and gin.' The man sat down at the bar and took off his sunglasses. He folded them and put them down on the bar in front of him. His eyes were brown, but they looked almost unnatural.

'Coming right up,' Boromir said. He put the drink together while trying to watch the man in the mirrored back panel of the bar. The man sat quite still, but he drummed his fingers against his knee.

'That will be $4.75.'

The man handed him the money and a tip. Boromir took it from his white hands; his fingers were long, calloused. He smiled a little at Boromir.

'Have I seen you somewhere?' he asked.

'I don't know,' Boromir said. 'You seem familiar.' And then he was called off to attend another customer.

The familiar stranger smiled at him again and then turned around to face the door. He sat there, sipping his drink, bothering Boromir. He had one leg crossed over the other and was watching the door.

Boromir tried again to place him, but he had never been particularly good at faces. He reminded him a little of Aragorn, or Elrond. He had high cheekbones, and slanted shadows fell down his face. He was watching the door.

Boromir dealt with a couple other customers, opened a tab for a group of what looked like college students joking about the drudgery of their internships. The stranger kept watching the door like he was waiting for someone. His look was intent, and his lips were drawn.

He drank the gin and tonic slowly, as if it were a dull exercise.

'Excuse me,' Boromir said, and he turned.

'Yes?'

'What's your name?' Boromir asked.

'Thomas.' He gave a slight smile and set down his empty glass. 'It was a good drink,' he said, rather stiffly and rose. 'Thank you.'

Boromir nodded, unsure of what to say. The familiarness was still eating away at him. 'Do you come here often?' he managed.

'No,' he said. 'I don't live here.'

His English was perfect. Boromir wondered if was a descendent of someone he knew. It was possible. It was probable.

'And your name is?'

'Harry,' Boromir said. It was the first name he could think of.

'It's nice to meet you.' He pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his suit coat and wrote a number on a napkin. 'My phone number,' he said. 'It might be important.'

Boromir took it. 'Thank you,' he said.

* * *

Legolas sat on the sofa. Aragorn and Frodo still hadn't emerged from the bathroom where they had gone to talk in relative privacy. Sam was finishing the dishes. Legolas has managed to sort the laundry, and it was now in its proper bags. He would have to take it down to the laundry mat the next day. He sighed and turned to Gimli, who was flipping through the television stations with a disinterested expression. Legolas wondered if he should try to start a conversation. Aragorn had mentioned that he wanted them to get along. Okay, it was more than a mention.

Legolas stared at Gimli. He continued to stare at Gimli until Gimli felt the weight of the stare and looked over, obviously already stubbornly opposed to whatever Legolas had to say. Legolas gave up on the idea, made a face at him, and walked into his room. There he got out his computer and began doing more research, searching everything he could find.

Questions and answers spun before his eyes as he kept researching. There had to be an answer to it all other than they just weren't real.

Legolas was jolted from his studies when he heard the front door of the apartment close loudly. He wandered out of his room to find Boromir standing in the middle of the living room, soaked.

'Don't ask,' he said and stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

'What happened to him?' Legolas asked the Hobbits.

'He isn't telling,' said Pippin.

Aragorn walked into the apartment. Legolas wondered when he had gone out; he hadn't heard it during his studying. 'Did Boromir come in?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Merry, 'and he was all wet.'

'And mad,' said Pippin.

Boromir stamped out of his room and slammed himself into the bathroom.

Aragorn knocked on the door. 'Are you all right?' he asked.

Boromir opened the door. 'I need to talk to you,' he said.

Aragorn disappeared into the bathroom.

'Does anyone want to talk to me _alone _and _in private_?' asked Pippin, stretching out leisurely on the sofa.

'I doubt it,' said Merry.

'I wonder,' mused Pippin, 'How Boromir could possibly succeed in getting soaked on such a day as this.'

'I bet,' said Merry, 'that one of Eeyore's rain clouds found him.'

'Eeyore?' asked Gimli.

'He's a donkey in a television show called _Winnie the Pooh_,' Merry informed him.

Gimli cast a critical eye at the television set, which he had apparently given up on. 'You mean to tell me that you actually _watch_ that thing?'

'What else is there to do trapped _all day_ in this wretched tower?' asked Legolas, throwing his hands up in dramatic despair.

Gimli grunted.

'We could be scholarly,' said Pippin, pulling on his best wise-old-scholar face.

Merry threw a pillow at him. It hit him squarely on the stomach and he fell flat on his back.

'Help!' he cried, 'I've been injured!'

Merry tackled Pippin and soon the two cousins were in the midst of a general Hobbit-wrestling match.

'Merry, Pippin, must you?' asked Frodo looking quite annoyed. 'You've been fighting all day.'

Gimli pulled them apart. 'That's quite enough from you two,' he decided, sitting them both firmly down and giving them a stern Dwarvish frown.

Aragorn and Boromir walked out of the bathroom; they both seemed very serious.

'All right, everyone, please settle down,' said Aragorn, 'we're going to have a council of sorts and everyone has to pay attention.' He looked around nervously to see if anyone was going to listen to him.

His companions quietly seated themselves and looked at him expectantly.

Aragorn looked relieved. 'We need to discuss our circumstances. As everyone knows, we are here for a reason we do not know.'

The company nodded. Sam drew his legs up and hugged his knees, resting his head on top of them.

'But we do know that we do not know a way to go back.'

Again the company nodded. Aragorn coughed a bit nervously. 'So, now we decide what we should do,' he coaxed.

'What do you mean by that?' asked Boromir. 'You already said that there was nothing we _could_ do. And now you ask what we _should_ do? What answer do you want?'

Aragorn shook his head. 'There are things that we can do. We can try to get along for one.' He looked about at all of them. 'We can try to find a way to make our lives here pleasant, at least as pleasant as they can be. We can try to help each other find the strength and courage to face this strange, new world. We can try to support each other, to care for each other, to love each other. That, Boromir, is what we can do.' He fell silent.

Merry scuffed his knuckles along the carpet and tried to clear his throat.

'We're not going to make rent,' Gimli said.

Aragorn closed his eyes. 'Do we stay together?' he asked.

'Yes,' Pippin said quickly. 'There's no way we can separate.'

'We'd get lost in the world,' Frodo said.

Aragorn nodded. 'Any objections?'

There were none.

Legolas leaned against the back of the sofa and rubbed at his nose where it was itching. 'I should get a job, then,' he said.

'Yes.'

'And what will we do about the Hobbits?'

'We'll be fine,' Frodo said. 'I promise. It's not that hard to stay alive.'

'I hope not.' Boromir touched his still-damp hair and sighed.

'What happened to you anyway?' Aragorn asked.

'Someone was washing windows,' Boromir said. He twisted a napkin in his hand.

'What's that?' Frodo asked, nodding at it.

'It is…it was a phone number,' Boromir said. 'There was a man at the bar I thought I knew.'

'What did he look like?' Frodo asked.

'Like…' Boromir shook his head. 'He was dressed like a business man, but there was a quality about him. He reminded me of Elrond. I think he was waiting for someone.'

'Are you going to call him?'

Boromir held up the napkin. It was wet, and the ink on it had run into one long smudge. 'I was going to.'

Aragorn sighed. 'Well, hopefully you will see him again soon.'

'He doesn't live here,' Boromir muttered.

'Maybe it was nothing,' said Aragorn. 'A chance resemblance.'

'There really aren't a whole lot of answers going on around here, are there?' Pippin said, stretching out on the floor. He looked up at Boromir from where he lay.

'No,' said Gimli. 'There really aren't.'

* * *

The next day was also hot. The sun seemed to be attempting to melt the roads, turn them to taffy.

Sam sat in a t-shirt and shorts flipping through a magazine with complicated recipes and glossy advertisements.

Legolas was on his stomach on the living room floor looking for jobs on the computer. He had taken the laundry out earlier, and the fresh stacks of clean clothes sat in each bedroom now since he had not put them away.

Boromir was sleeping, preparing for his nightshift. He said that he planned to get up at noon. It was 11:30 then, and Merry and Frodo were gathered into one corner of the room whispering with their heads bent.

Pippin was in Legolas and Aragorn's room spending time pretending that the big bed was all his.

Sam was reading an American history textbook picked up from a thrift shop. Reading English came more easily to him than speaking English, and he pored over the book, absorbing information that he was sure would be useful later. But something was bothering him. He wanted to talk. He pushed the book across the floor so that it was near Legolas's computer.

'Hi,' he said as soon as the book and the computer were touching.

Legolas looked up and smiled a smile so beautiful it made Sam's heart melt a little. Elves tended to do things like that.

'What is it?' Legolas asked.

'I was just thinking,' Sam said.

'About?'

'Maybe living in the country. Getting a garden. Rent's higher in cities.'

Legolas nodded. 'Yes, I think that would be nice.'

Sam nodded, trying to think of something to say. Anything would be better than just making awkward faces and biting his lip.

Legolas smiled again. 'Frodo says you like poetry.'

'Yes.' Sam nodded as he answered.

'I like poetry too.'

Legolas bit his lip and looked down at the computer. 'But I don't think you can get a job around poetry.'

'I don't think I can get a job at all,' Sam said.

Legolas nodded. 'No, probably not. You probably would have to look a bit older. Or taller. Or something.'

'There are little big people too,' Sam said.

Legolas nodded again.

'What's it like being so old?' Sam asked suddenly, before he had meant to say it.

'I don't know,' Legolas said. 'I have a lot of memories. It's hard and easy and warm.'

Sam looked down at his brown fingers. The fingernails were completely clean. He didn't think he could remember that ever happening before. No matter what he did, how much he scrubbed, there had always been traces of dirt.

'That's interesting,' he said because it was, and he could think of nothing better to say.

'Yeah,' Legolas said.

* * *

Boromir did not see his familiar stranger at work that night. He did see a strange, shuffling, pale man who watched the world with hooded eyes, but other than that, the people seemed quite normal. He waited on them and watched, but the night offered nothing more than the quiet trickle of time passing and the slight shifting of the stars.

* * *

_A/N: I really have got to apologize for this being so overdue! I was eaten alive by schoolwork since the beginning of March, so I barely got anything else done. My classes are letting up now so updates in future will be much more regular._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Sorry about saying updates would be more regular. I lied. Or rather, I was planning on it, and then I got sick. I get sick a lot. I still haven't got a clear answer as to why._

_Now I make no promises._

* * *

'Don't worry. You'll be a natural,' Boromir assured Legolas, patting him on the shoulder.

'Are you sure about that?'

'You'd better be – I recommended you.' The wind whipped rain against the low, narrow panes of the _9 Numbers_. Boromir stood, scrubbing down the bar. 'Besides, you have everything it takes: good looks, a nice smile, a charming personality, a quick fist if you need it.' He glanced quickly to the back room to make sure his manager hadn't heard his last comment.

Legolas looked at him, startled.

'That was a little joke; I haven't had to punch any one yet. It's actually a very civilized bar.' Boromir looked around the dimly lit room. 'No trouble, really.'

'Okay.' Legolas said uncertainly. He was sitting on one of the stools opposite Boromir watching his every move.

'Do you think you got it?' Boromir asked.

'I think so.' Legolas was holding the sleeves of his heather grey shirt tight down in his hands. His eyes seemed to be peering straight through Boromir's hand, and the rag, down to the marble surface of the counter. 'And you'll be here with me?'

'Yeah.'

Legolas nodded. 'Your manager is a strange man.'

'Yes.' Boromir began to polish the taps.

'He must really like you if he'll give me a job just like that.'

Boromir shrugged. 'He has a hard time keeping people.'

'Why?'

'He's a strange man.' Boromir dropped the polishing rag. 'Just don't do anything that looks suspicious, or makes him think you might be plotting behind his back.'

Legolas was about to ask a question, but, just then, Mr. Smith walked out of the back room.

'I'm glad you thought of that friend of yours,' he said to Boromir, his eyes barely lifting off the book he was carrying. 'I love him. He was just what we were looking for…let me see, 7 or 9?' He shook his head at the little book. 'Someone self assured and not too young, but not too old either.' He scribbled something down on the book.

'Mr. Smith?' Legolas asked.

Mr. Smith looked up. 'Yes? Yes? 6 or 3…what is it?'

'When do I start?'

'Start? Oh, start, yes, yes, you can start tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, no, no, tomorrow is Sunday, isn't it?'

'No, Mr. Smith, tomorrow is Tuesday,' answered Boromir.

'Tuesday. Yes, you can start on Tuesday. Tomorrow isn't it?'

'Yes, sir,' said Legolas.

Mr. Smith nodded his balding head, his blue eyes sparkling. 'Do you…I have forgotten your name?'

'It's Edel, sir. Edel Greenleaf.'

'Edel, that is an unusual name. Yes, yes, very unusual, I don't usually hear that name.' He wrinkled his nose for a moment and made a mark in his book. 'But no matter…must be 5…it is a good name. What was I saying?'

'You were going to ask me something.'

'Oh, yes, yes, I was, wasn't I? I was going to ask you…4, 5, or 7? Too soon to tell…if you cared for Sudoku?' He shook the little book he was carrying. It was open to a page printed with a grid partially filled with numbers.

'I don't know, sir. I have never heard of Sudoku before.'

'Haven't heard of Sudoku? What do you do with yourself? How do you occupy your free time?' Mr. Smith shook his head solemnly. 'It's a great shame, a great shame indeed. Ah-ha! 4!'

Boromir smiled at Legolas almost apologeticaly.

'Sudoku is a number game, very good for the mind, keeps it sharp!' Mr. Smith smiled at Legolas. He was a skinny man, short and lithe, with very pale skin. '8, 8, it could be 8…it is absolutely essential to keep your mind sharp, especially in old age, that way…I knew it was 8…you can concentrate on things…9, of course…and not let your life slip away unnoticed.' He nodded again, cheerfully. 'If 1 went there then 5 would go there and…it was very nice meeting you…and if 5 went there then 4 would have to…and I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow…but it's too soon to tell, too soon…well, I suppose that is all, come back tomorrow, tomorrow, your shift starts at 5…7, of course!'

'It was a pleasure meeting you, sir,' said Legolas with a bemused smile.

'The pleasure was all mine, Edel…if only I knew what went there…' Mr. Smith said as he wandered to the door, book in one hand, umbrella in the other.

'Good-night, Mr. Smith,' called Boromir.

'Good-night! remember your new shift starts at 5 too! 5 to 2, my good man…7 or 3?…because you can handle pressure…4…it was just my luck to find you, good-night!'

Mr. Smith disappeared out the door into the squall of the night.

Legolas stared at the door for sometime before asking, 'is he always like that?'

'Yes, he is quite something.'

'What is this Sudoku he was doing?'

'As far as I can figure,' said Boromir with a smile, 'it's his life.'

'Is that why he calls his bar _9 Numbers_?'

'I think so; at any rate, he's obsessed.' Boromir walked into the back room to wash his hands, and Legolas followed.

'It won't be such a hot night, tonight,' remarked Legolas, for the sake of conversation.

'No, the rain has cooled everything down a lot.' Boromir dried his hands and turned off the light. Legolas followed him around the bar and watched him close up.

When they stepped out the door, the rain had let up to just a drizzle. They walked silently down the sidewalk. Legolas looked up at the sky; clouds were breaking over a crescent moon; it all looked more distant than he had ever seen it before. He reached out and took Boromir's hand.

Boromir glanced at him, and then laced their fingers together tightly.

'What do you think about…here?' Legolas looked around him trying to find words for what he felt, his thoughts felt drowned in the immensity of the city.

'This city is nothing in comparison to Minis Tirith,' Boromir said. 'Have you ever seen my city?'

Legolas shook his head. 'No. I have not travelled so far. Tell me about it.'

Boromir's face became solemn, and he peered ahead of him as if he were trying to see through time and distance, through some great, unknown division that lay between him and his home, through the very essence of reality to a land that he had once walked upon now brushed aside as the wild imaginings of a dead man. He shuddered.

'You should see it,' he said, looking down at the sidewalk. 'This city falls short in more ways then I can count. Minis Tirith is armed; this city lies open to attack. It is sprawling and dirty, unplanned and unkept.' He kicked at a Styrofoam cup lying on the cracked sidewalk. 'It's people do not care for it, they pollute it and dirty it; they do not fortify it, and I have seen none who bears arms. There is no guard. They call it a city? It would fall under any assault,' he scoffed. 'Minis Tirith is strong and planned, beautiful and enduring. It has held itself for centuries, and it will for centuries to follow, but…' his voice caught, and he fell silent.

The rain had let up completely now, and they were walking in the coolness of the air afterward, all lights hazy through the mist that remained as the remnant of clouds.

Legolas looked at Boromir. His hair was falling in a tangle across his face where the wind had blown it; his eyes were both troubled and nervous; his lips twitched in uncertainty. He held Legolas's hand tightly, and Legolas could feel the strength in his hand, and yet, he seemed so fragile, as if he would break at any moment and everything about him would be shown to the world in a moment of blinding, agonizing truth.

'I am so tired,' Boromir said, and it slowly began to rain again.

* * *

The most interesting thing about working at Wal-Mart was seeing what everyone loaded into their carts to bring home. People would come through with $500 worth of items and pile them up one by one.

There would be women with children hanging onto the carts. Babies strapped down in seats at the front of the cart. Old men with pot bellies bulging out from over their jeans.

Gimli watched everyone and made notes as he scanned diapers and soda and lamps and Spider-man action figures.

Fluorescent lights flickered high above on the ceilings, stopping time and the natural process between night and day.

Gimli had not grown up in a mountain. He'd grown up in the back of a cart, bumping down roads and over rivers with two ponies hitched in front and one walking along behind.

The first thing he'd learned after how to speak was how to tell direction from the sun and the moon and the stars. Then he'd learned how to craft toys, and then he'd learned magic and how to make the wooden dancers spin, how to make the brass horses gallop.

Gimli rode home with the vibrations of the subway wheels ricocheting through his body. He sat with his head bent like he'd learned to ride with his head bent, boots flat against the bottom of the cart, hood up, ignoring the looks, forgetting the jeers. Now he rode the same way, hoodie up, feet flat on the floor as he sat at the edge of his seat.

'How was work?' said Frodo when Gimli walked through the door.

'Fine.' Gimli got himself some water.

'Strider's still out.' Frodo was sitting on the counter next to the stove. 'He's supposed to be home by now, but he isn't.'

'All right.'

'We're having soup tonight.' Frodo picked up a wooden spoon resting next to him on a counter and stirred the soup in the pot on the stove. 'I don't know if it's going to be very good.'

'I'm sure it will be fine.' Gimli had had a lot of soup in his life. He'd had a lot of watery, thin soup with rocks dropped in for salt, bones dropped in for meat. He'd grown up on soup.

'My silly cousins are hiding in your room right now, I think,' Frodo continued. 'Just chase them out if they're being a bother.' He lifted the spoon to his lips and blew on it before tasting. 'Pretty good, if I do say so myself.'

Gimli nodded and stuck his hands into his pockets. 'Most things taste fine if you put enough salt in them.'

Frodo laughed. 'Works in a pinch, I suppose. Or with a pinch.'

Gimli smiled.

'I wish I could do more to help out,' Frodo said. 'Are you really worried about the rent?'

'It's not adding up right now,' Gimli said. 'We've gotten by before because I had a couple rings I could sell.'

Frodo sipped at the soup again. 'I hope… I hope that wasn't too hard for you.'

Gimli kept his hands deep in his pockets and nodded his head. 'It had to be done. Hopefully the elf's income will pull us through now.'

Frodo looked at the clock. 'I really hope Strider gets home soon. He said he was getting out of work early.'

'Maybe he had somewhere else to go.'

'He didn't say he did.'

'Maybe he doesn't tell you everything.'

'Could be, but then why would he say he got out of work early?'

'I don't know. I wish we had cell phones, so we could to each other when we were out. Everyone has them, and they seem very important.'

'They do.'

'But what are you going to do? If you can't afford something, you can't afford it.'

'True, true,' Frodo said.

'I asked to pick up a second shift, but I don't know if I'm going to get it.'

'Yeah?'

'Said I had a family to take care of, and I do.'

Frodo stirred the soup. 'Thanks for trying.'

'We just do what we have to.'


End file.
